When will the Blood Begin to Race?
by wantingbroadway
Summary: Post ALW's musical and movie, with a little Leroux. It has been a month since that fateful night. EC fluff with a little angst. Warning: I don't like Raoul.
1. Prologue

1**When Will the Blood Begin to Race?**

**A/N:** Hey all! Thanks for taking an interest in my story! This is my first Phantom fic, so I ask for no flames... at least for the moment. I am just taking a stab at writing, for I am bored. This is a mix of ALW's and Leroux's version. Quick thing to clear things up: _Italics: are thoughts; **bold italics: are flashbacks. **_A million hugs and kisses to my editor, Chris!

No, I don't own Phantom. And when I rule the world! I still wont own it...

**Prologue**

The darkness was cool, rich, inviting.

_What have I done? _This was the sole thought in her head. She continuously looked over her shoulder, making sure she wasn't being followed. The only sound was the gallops of the horse she had taken from the De Chagny Estate. It had surprised Christine how easily she got out of the De Chagny mansion.

_Almost too easy._ It had been a month and they still weren't married, though it had been prominently advertised 2 days after the "incident." Raoul didn't know why she kept asking for more time, though Christine suspected he knew all too well. Since that night under the Opera Populaire, Christine had seen a new side to Raoul. A not so pleasant, or safe side. He had been pressuring her, over protective, not letting her out of the house, not even into the yard.

They have had fights, too many than Christine would like to admit.

**_Raoul came into her room one morning and slipped his arm around her neck and stomach as she was brushing her hair. She had been taken by surprise and for a moment swore she smelled the tangy smell of citrus she had come to long for. _**

_**"Christine?" She heard his rich tenor voice in her ear. A small chill went down spine. "Mm?" She responded, her eyes still closed. **_

_**"Shall we have the wedding in a fortnight?" This question snapped her out of daydream. **_

_**She turned and forced a smile on through her disappointment. She snaked her arms around his neck as she said, "Darling Raoul, do you think we could wait just a while longer? I want to marry you, I just need a little time."**_

_**As she spoke, she could see the shimmer in his eyes disappear and become stormy with anger. When she finished, he pushed Christine away.**_

**_"It's always a little more time, Christine! How many more 'Little More Time's' do you need?"_**

_**"Raoul, please! I just need to-"**_

_**"To what, Christine? To finally realize that you don't love me? That you much rather go back to your 'Angel'?" He practically spat out the last word.**_

_**"No, Raoul! Please try to understand!" By now Christine was sobbing.**_

_**"Understand! Christine, what do you take me for! I hear you yell out his name at night!"**_

_**Christine went up to him and slapped him through tears. "How dare you!"**_

_**He just chuckled. "Alright Christine, you will have a little more time. But mark my words, it will come soon, whether you are ready or not." He left the room slamming the door. **_

_**That was yesterday.**_

****Tears were now streaming down her face, but she pressed on. She could now see the shimmering Paris skyline. She knew where she needed to go, and what she needed to do, just not yet. She couldn't yet.

**A/N: **So tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hey all! Thanks to all who have read the beginning of my story! I'm sorry if the chapters are short. I'm hoping they would get longer as the story moves along. Once again hugs and kisses to my editor, Chris!

No... I don't own it, not at all.

**Chapter 1**

* * *

He sat alone in the darkness.

It had been a month. A month of being deserted. A month of anger, frustration, and worst of all, heartbreak. Ever since that disastrous night, all Erik tried to do is get her out of his mind.

Getting away from the murderous crowd was easy enough. He hid a few days and when he came back his lair was under a now ruined, Opera Populaire. Everything was ruined; the swan bed was turned upside-down and the swan was in pieces. The organ was dented and bruised, nothing he couldn't fix though. Many of the candelabra's were broken and at the bottom of the lake. His compositions were torn and scattered throughout the lair.

_So much mindless destruction, I don't think I deserve a better metaphor for what I've done._ He decided to keep his new decor. This was the last thought that entered his mind for the remainder of the month.

He felt alone and numb. So he played. He sat at his organ, and played.

He played out his anger toward the world, toward his face, and toward himself. He was a monster and he knew it.

He only stopped when nature forced him. To eat, just enough to make his stomach stop growling at him; to use the bathroom; to sleep, which he went days on end with only a two hour nap.

Otherwise, he played.

* * *

Christine finally rode into Paris, as a new day was dawning on the world.

She had two places where she could stay. She knew she would be welcomed with open arms in one, but she wasn't sure if the same was for the other.

She was heading to the safest one for now.

Within moments, she was in front of the Opera Populaire. She stopped. Watching the sun rise behind the majestic building made Christine gasp. The soft rays of pink and gold reached from behind the building, it looked like the portal to heaven. Even with the windows broken and evidence of a recent fire, it was still a sight to behold.

Without thinking, she had gotten off the horse and climbed up the marble stairs toward the main entrance of the Opera House.

Once inside, she found that she couldn't breathe.

The place where she spent most of her life, the place that she had called home for so long, was ruined. The great marble staircase which greeted you at the entrance, which was once white, was now blackened. The gold railings were melted and no longer shining brilliantly as they once did, but were now covered in ash. The golden angels which once adorned the ceiling were now deformed and disfigured; she couldn't bare the sight of it, yet she dared not leave, not yet.

She walked down the halls, heading nowhere in particular. The hundreds of beautiful paintings that hung on the walls where no longer there, but were replaced with burnt pieces of canvases and no longer recognizable silver and golden frames.

The next thing to meet her was he dressing room. She stared at it. All she could do was stare at the door. The once beautifully carved door, burnt to a crisp. She started moving toward it, she knew she should stop, she knew she should run the other way and run out of the Opera House, but she didn't. Her legs weren't obeying.

Before she knew it, she inside the room, and just the sight of the wreckage was heart wrenching.

Everything, charred. The vanity, the bed, even the picture of her father. She didn't notice the tears running down her cheeks.

She turned and went toward the vanity. _The notes, Oh Dear God, please. _All the letters Erik had sent her over the numerous years they had spent together. She pulled open the bottom drawer on the left, what she was greeted by ash. Blackened pieces of what they used to be.

Sobbing now, she crawled toward the immense double wide two way mirror where she had first seen her Angel. Sitting on the charred remains of the floor, she leaned her left side against the mirror. The only sound in all the Opera House ware her uncontrollable sobs.

Pressing a hand on the mirror, she whispered. "Oh God, Erik. What have I done? Please forgive me. God, what have I done?"

After that she sat in silence, not sure if he heard her plea. Then slowly sleep began to claim her. She fell asleep sitting at the foot of the mirror.

* * *

Erik kneeled on the other side of the mirror, and for the first time in a month he thought.

And he didn't know what to do.

* * *

**A/N: **If you want the next chapter, you must review! Muahahaha!


	3. Chapter 2

1**A/N: **Hey ya'll! Wow! I should bribe reviews for chapters more often! Thanks to all who reviewed! I grateful for them! Well, here's Chapter 2 of the story! Let me just tell you how I do this. The only way I post a chapter is when I have the chapter after it done. Well, the reason I continue updating so much is that I haven't had school for a week and a half. Once school starts the most I can promise is maybe once or twice a week. I promise I'll try to update as soon as possible! Well anyways enough of me! On with Chapter 2!

**Chapter 2**

Erik had realized someone was in the Opera House since they stepped through the front door. It had surprised him how in tuned his senses were to the Opera House above him.

He groaned as he got up from the organ. He grabbed his Punjab lasso as he was exiting his lair to the tunnels above.

_It's amazing how old habits die hard. _As he entered the dark corridors beneath the Opera House his footstep became light, barely audible, even to his trained ears. His breathing light, and his movements swift, he eased into the darkness. All these factors had earned his infamous name, 'Phantom.'

He turned the to the double wide mirrors in Christine's old dressing room. When he went to open the latch, someone entered the room. It was a woman. He waited.

He couldn't get a clear view of her face, yet he knew.

"Christine." He breathed.

She hadn't heard him. He dropped the lasso on the floor and stared through the mirror.

Then his senses came back to him. _She didn't come back from me. How did I think she would come back for me? The 'Pitiful Creature of Darkness'? _

He picked up the lasso and began to walk back down the dark corridor when he heard her say his name. He stopped. "... what have I done? Please forgive me. God, what have I done?"

Without thinking he was kneeling next to her. The only thing that separated him from her was a thin piece of glass.

She was crying. He could never see her cry. Even though it never showed, it broke his heart.

He watched as she fell asleep. He didn't know what to do. She called out to him, that has to mean something.

He got up and undid the latch, sliding open the mirror, making sure not to wake her up. He saw one rebellious curl had fallen forward. He smiled as he kneeled down and tucked the curl behind her ear. _She left her hair loose. _His smile disappeared.

"Why are you here Christine?" He asked her quietly. He watched as her as her breathing deepened.

He lightly trailed the back of his finger up and down the bottom of her jaw. He saw her give a small shutter, but she did not wake. He grinned sadly. He watched every part of her; how every curl tangled and untwined effortlessly, the perfect curvature of her lips, her slender swan-like neck, the rise and fall of her breast as she breathed.

"Why would an Angel want to spend the rest of her days with a demon?" He asked quietly.

He was about to stand up and leave her when he noticed her eyes began moving beneath her perfectly shaped eyelids, and her breathing shallowed and become more rapid. She began to say something.

"Erik, no..." The rest was incoherent to him. _Even my mere presence gives her nightmares. _Even the thought hurt.

"Erik, no! Please! Don't go!" She was louder now. He couldn't stand it, he got up to leave.

"No, Erik! I don't want go with him! Don't push me away!" He stopped, the second time since she had been here.

"No! Erik! Don't leave me! Not again!" She was yelling now. Once again he was by her side, but now he was holding her. Her head was resting on the crook of his neck.

"Don't make me go! Please Erik!" She continued yelling.

"Shh... It's ok. You're with me. Shh. I'm here. I will never leave you" He whispered into her ear. She calmed down, but continued fussing.

He started humming a familiar tune to her. He hardly realized that he started singing softly.

"**Slowly, gently  
**

**night unfurls its splendor . . .  
**

**Grasp it, sense it -  
**

**tremulous and tender . . .  
**

**Turn your face away  
**

**from the garish light of day,  
**

**turn your thoughts away  
**

**from cold, unfeeling light  
**

**and listen to  
**

**the music of the night . . ." **

He stopped as the last note dissolved into silence. Christine had finally settled and calmed in his arms.

He stayed there, holding her. His head on the crown of her head, taking in the sweet scent of lavender. If he were to die now, he would die the happiest man alive. _It's amazing how perfectly her body fits into mine. _

It was when she started speaking when he snapped out of it. He listened closely to her once again.

"Erik, I love you."

**A/N: **Well tell me what you think? There's cookies in it for you!


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Hey All! I must say I am soooo flattered with all of your reviews. Yay! Gives all reviewers cookies and brownies. Hee hee.

As I said before I will try to update as soon as possible! Hope you like Chapter 3!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters so far. They all belong to Monsieur Gaston Leroux, Monsieur Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Madame Susan Kay.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Erik froze.

_Did she really say what I think she did? _

Even if he wanted to, he couldn't think. The only thing running through his mind were the four words he just heard her speak.

"_**Erik, I love you."**_

He panicked. He couldn't get wound up again. He was too close to her, he had to get away. He gently leaned Christine against the mirror once again. He stepped through the mirror and closed it.

He ran down the corridors without a glance behind. He knew if looked back, he wouldn't be able to leave her.

The damp, cool darkness eased him slightly. His mind was racing, yet thinking nothing.

When he finally got his lair he sighed in relief and frustration. He began pacing up and down his lair. His footsteps were fast, clipped, in perfect synchronization, like a metronome.

"Surely she was just dreaming." _However aren't dreams a manifestation of ones subconscious?_

"No. NO! She must be married by now." _Then why doesn't she have a ring_?

He let himself slump down into a chair. He sighed, hanging his head. "What do I do now?"

He thought of Christine sleeping above. He slammed his fist down onto the arm of the chair. _What does she think she's doing? What kind of sick game is she playing?_

He got up and went to the organ, if he was going to straiten out everything that was going on in his head, it would be through music.

So he played.

* * *

Christine found herself lying in a black room. The only light was on her, she couldn't see where is was coming from. As she got up from the floor she saw she was in a simple white wedding dress. 

"Hello? Is anyone here?" She yelled into the emptiness.

"Hush, mon ange, you wouldn't want wake up any demons." A rich tenor voice whispered from behind her. A small shiver went down her spine as she his strong arms wrapped around her waist and stomach. _Erik. _She smiled as she turned around in his arms. Blazing blue-green eyes met her from beneath the familiar white mask.

"Would that be so bad?" She asked mischievously.

"You don't know what your asking for."

"Don't I?" She smiled and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. The kiss started slow and sweet, each one taking their time. Then Christine felt his tongue trying to break through, she opened up more than willingly. His tongue brought her to a new height. A moan escaped from the back of her throat. Though they were close, she needed to be closer. She pressed her body flushed against his. She heard a low growl come from him.

Suddenly he broke the kiss. She looked at him confused, while she caught her breath.

"Erik? What's wrong?"

He staggered back a bit. "Christine, go."

"Erik? What are you saying?"

"Christine, Leave!" His tone fierce.

"Erik, no. I wont leave. Tell me what's wrong!"

"Go!" He barked at her, then disappeared into the darkness.

"Erik, no! Please! Don't go!" She began to crawl in the darkness when another light turned on. She saw Erik lying on the floor. She got up and ran to him, falling to her knees beside him.

"Erik?" He opened his eyes weakly.

"Mon ange." He answered with a weak smile.

"What's wrong?" Her eyes starting to fill with tears. She grasped his left hand.

"Go Christine. Go back to the Vitcome. He will keep you safe and happy." His eyes glazed with unshed tears.

A few feet away another light came on and there was Raoul. He reached out his arms toward her.

"Come Christine."

Christine turned back to Erik. "No, Erik! I don't want go with him! Don't push me away!"

The next thing she saw made her feel like someone had rammed an ice pick through her heart, and froze her down to her very soul.

Blood.

Coming from underneath Erik.

"No! Erik! Don't leave me! Not again!"

"Go Christine." He said quietly.

"Don't make me go! Please Erik!" She yelled at him through tears.

"Christine-" She placed a finger on his lips.

"No." She cupped the unmarred side of his face and then gently began to take off the mask.

"Christine..." A tear rolled down his cheek, but he didn't stop her.

She took off the mask. The face underneath was as perfect as the other side.

"You're beautiful." She gave him a sweet kiss on his lips.

"Christine, I love you."

She leaned down and rested her head on his chest. She began to sob. Somewhere far away she heard his voice.

"I'm here. I will never leave you." Then his hand went slack. She cried into his chest.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at Raoul. Thenhis hand became tighter and he threw her off of Erik's body with force. When she looked back up at him, his face was no longer that which she was accustomed to. It was no longer that young handsome face of the vitcome. It was of a hideous deformed demon which was about to take claim over her.

Then she woke up. She felt those familiar strong arms around her and the voice which she had come to love and adore over the years. She kept her eyes closed listening to the purity of his voice as he sang to her the familiar song which he had sang the first night she saw him. She had never felt so safe and comfortable as she did now.

She felt sleep begin to claim her once again. She wanted this moment to last forever, but she knew that too soon she would be back asleep. Before that happened, she wanted to tell him something before it was too late.

"Erik, I love you."

Then the haze of sleep carried her off again.

* * *

Raoul woke up to a knock on his bedroom door. He got up grumbling from bed. He opened the door to see a young maid looking worried. 

"Yes?"

"Monsieur, Mademoiselle Christine is nowhere to be found."

* * *

**A/N:** You thought I forgot of our favorite Vitcome? Muaha! Christine's not getting away that easy!

You likey? Then tell me!


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hey yall, Please put down you Punjab lasso's, I know I took ages to update. Good thing is that I have Chapter 5 completely done and Chapter 6 is almost done. My editor is to blame, well I gave it to my other friend, she is now my New Editor and Co-Writer. Yay for Lisa! Don't worry... 5 will be up REALLY SOON!

Disclaimer: No, I don't own the characters. They belong to Monsieur Gaston Leroux, Monsieur Andrew Lloyd Webber, Mademoiselle Susan Kay, and the song belong to Monsieur Francesco Durante (Song originally written in Italian.)

Now I present you with Chapter 4!

* * *

Christine awoke to the slight smell of charred wood that encompassed her old dressing room. Looking around, she sensed his presence. She could feel him. Somehow, she knew he was close.

"Hello? Erik?" Silence greeted her.

_That couldn't have been a dream… Could it? _

She passed her hand across the full length mirror. She thought, with a sad smile, of the many singing lessons that had taken place in her old room.

_**Christine was 13.**_

_**She sat in the small stone chapel where she set up a memorial for her father. Today was the anniversary of her father's death. She had lit a candle and said a silent prayer for her father. She had also thanked her father for keeping his promise and sending the Angel of Music to her. **_

_**For years he had come to her while she was here in the chapel or when she was alone in her room. He would sing to her and comfort her. She had come to trust her Angel and she would tell him everything, and somehow through song he would make it all better.**_

_**She began to sing a song her father had sang to her while he was still alive. **_

"**Dance, O dance, **

**Maiden gay, to the song that I sing**

**Dance, O dance,**

**Maiden gay, to the song, to the song that I sing.**

**Lightly and airily fly**

**While bounding resounding,**

**The billows out ring!**

**Dost thou hear the low voices of breezes soft blending**

**Appeal to thy heart with their blandishing tone,**

**Their blandishing tone?**

**They invite to a dance never ending, **

**And whisper, **

"**Dance on! Dance on!**

**Dance, O Dance"**

_**Christine continued on with the song, her voice low, but beautiful none the less. When she finished the song, she gave herself a moment to wipe away a few stray tears.**_

"_**I love you, Papa."**_

_**She blew out the candle and went back to her small bedroom. When Christine first came to the Opera House, Madame Giry was able to get her a small bedroom by herself so she didn't need to share with the other ballet rats.**_

_**When she closed the door, her Angel's voice greeted her.**_

"_**You never told me you had such a beautiful voice." **_

_**She blushed. "You heard." **_

"_**Your father sent me to look over you, of course I heard." **_

"_**I'm sorry, it was just a tribute to my father."**_

"_**Belle Petit Ange, do not apologize! Your voice is beautiful! And if you let me, you can be the Prima Donna of the century!"**_

"_**You really think so?" Her blush deepened. **_

"_**Of course. Now, copy me."**_

She smiled as she remembered her first music lesson. From that point on, everything had changed. Not only was he her Angel of Music, but her teacher. As she grew older, she slowly fell in love with him. Though, at the time, she wasn't aware of what it truly was. She would wish that her Angel was more than an Angel.

Then, unexpectedly, she was given the chance to be a Prima Donna in an opera, providing her the opportunity to have her one drawn out wish granted. She met her Angel.

And it was more than she could bear.

She sighed and got up from the floor. She didn't want to go, but she knew she had no business, nor was it safe, her staying here alone. She kissed her hand and then pressed it against the mirror.

_That will have to do for now. _She took a deep breath and walked out of her room, past the golden, engraved busts, and through the once majestic front doors of the Opera Populaire into the busy streets of Paris.

The sun was shining brightly overhead now and the horse she stole was nowhere to be found. No problem, as she wasn't far from her destination. She pulled up the hood to the cloak she had on and walked briskly down the street.

The streets were alive with vendors, with children playing and men going on to their jobs. She smiled. She had missed the busy life that Paris had offered. The De Chagny Estate was unbearably silent most of the day, with the exception of a couple of the servants. The noisy street was refreshing and lifted her spirits some.

She smiled as she entered a building. She stealthily climbed 3 flights of stairs and stopped in front of a plain dark wood door. She drew a deep breath, then raised her hand and knocked.

"Coming," called a female voice from the other side.

The knob turned and the door swung open. In the opening appeared a thin blonde girl. The girl's face was tired and stressed, but when she saw Christine her face filled with joy. Within seconds they two young women held each other a death grip of a hug, with laughter and tears coming from both.

"Christine!" yelled the girl.

"Meg, it has been too long!" exclaimed Christine.

"Oh, Christine, it's been a month!"

"Just as I said, it's been too long!"

They laughed and hugged a little more, still standing in Meg's entrance hall.

"Oh, where are my manners! Come in Christine! Or should I say Vitcomtesse?" She smiled as she led her long time friend into the apartment.

"No, no Vitcomtesse, far from it." Her voice was suddenly low, taking on a sad, dark tone.

"Oh, Christine, I'm so sorry! What happened? He didn't!" Meg grabbed her hand and was looking at Christine with worried eyes.

"No, No! He didn't. It's such a long story. Another time, I promise!" She smiled. Meg saw her hesitation and smiled too, forgetting about it for the moment because she knew Christine wasn't to be pushed on the subject.

"Well, no matter! You're here now and that's all I care about! Well, let me give you the grand tour!" She went to the center of the room, and gave a simple spin on the ball of her foot with her arms stretched out. "This is the living room!" She announced grandly. It was a fairly average living room. It was sparsely decorated with a crème colored couch and two winged wine colored chairs which sat beside a small window with a view of the Paris streets below.

"That over there," she pointed to her left. "…Is the kitchen." It was a small space. A few cupboards were on the walls, a sink, stove, and a miniscule counter filled up the small space.

"And down that hall are our bedrooms and wash room. And this ends the marvelous tour through the Giry residents!" she announced triumphantly with a smile.

"It is beautiful!" laughed Christine.

"I know it isn't nearly as grand as the Opera House, but it's our home none- the- less. Sit, Christine!" She led Christine to the crème colored couch. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine day in Paris?" Meg asked teasingly.

"A girl cannot come to visit her best friend and her mother!" Christine pouted. "By the way, where is the Madame?"

"Oh, she went down to the market not ten minutes before you came. It's a miracle you didn't run into her on your way here."

As if on cue, Madame Giry walked in, her hands filled with food and household items. "Meg, come help your tired mother with these things." Meg looked at Christine and gave her a wink before she got up. She grabbed about half the things from her mother and went to put them away.

"Meg, I heard you talking, and I hope you weren't trying to sing once again. I have told you, you are no Prima Donna."

Christine couldn't help but giggle. Madame turned around and spotted Christine perched on the couch. Her face lit up with surprise and pleasure. "Mon Dieu! Christine!" She dropped everything on the counter and in moments had Christine in a motherly embrace. Christine heard Meg chuckling to herself.

Christine lowered her voice so that her words met only Mme. Giry's ears, "I was hoping we could talk."

"Of course, Christine! Of course." replied the woman.

* * *

Raoul was riding in a carriage, staring absently out the window, his mind elsewhere. It wouldn't be long until he was in the city. He had a few things to take care of. He would give Christine a little freedom until binding her up in his trap again. He thought if he left her with a sense of false freedom for a little while, she would relax and it would be easier for him to bend her to his will. 

_It was easy the first time, how hard would it be to do it again?_ He planned on staying in Paris for a week. That should give him enough time.

* * *

**A/N: **Now if you click that delightful little blue botton entitled 'Submit Review' you will recieve kisses from Erik - 

I remain your obedient servent,

sexxy-spider-theatre-freak


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: '**Ello Dearies! Yes I have put up chapter 5 before the Weekend ended! (gasp) Twinkle22, Dr.White, and ChristineLovesPhantom, You all recieve kisses from Erik for responding! Hee hee... I hope you like the chapter, Raoul is back (GASP). Don't worry he isn't in the way... yet. Muaha! Will he really be in the way? You ask, and you will find out soon enough. Now once again, I must show much thanks to my editor Lisa! Yay! (There's a extra present for you! ;-D)

Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own no characters. All belong to Monsieur Leroux, Monsieur Lloyd Webber, and Madame Kay.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 5 

After hours of chatting and catching up, Madame Giry, Meg, and Christine sat in the small living room, drinking tea. It was agreed a while ago that Christine would stay the night because Madame Giry wouldn't allow Christine to waste money staying in a strange hotel alone when she could have stayed perfectly well in the apartment.

"Well, I am tired," announced Meg with a yawn. "I am going to bed. I'll lay out some blankets for you in my room, Christine."

"Thank you. I'll turn in shortly."

The two women watched Meg bounce into her room. When they heard the door lock, Madame Giry turned to Christine.

"I can not believe you came only to catch up. What's on your mind?"

Christine turned her head and looked out the window. She watched for a moment as sporadic carriages went up and down the street. With her voice heavy with sorrow, she replied; "You must have already guessed, but I have not married Raoul."

Madame Giry nodded. "I noticed you did not have on a ring. Go on."

"He... doesn't even know I'm here. I left this morning. I know he will be looking for me by tomorrow, but I can't go back." She suddenly turned toward the woman. "I can not continue to live with him." Her voice took on a tone of confidence and what sounded like rage. Madame Giry had never seen this side of Christine. _She has grown. _

"I won't make you go back and you are welcomed to stay here as long as you need, but I think that you should talk with him."

"I can't! You don't understand! He... he is worse than Erik!" She practically screamed the last part, then, shamed at her outburst, turned her face away. Madame Giry remained silent.

Quietly Christine continued, "I have dreams about him. Dreams I dare not describe." She turned and looked at Madame. "I... I must ask. Have you heard of him after... that night?"

They heard church bells ringing outside. They rang twelve times. Midnight. They sat listening to the chimes until the last echo died into the silence of the night.

"He... is dead Christine. The news came out two days later. They found the charred remains of a body beneath the Opera House. They confirmed that it was him."

Tears swarmed her eyes, as she thought of the dream. "Madame, it cannot be true! I was in the Opera House! He was there! I swear it!"

"I went there the day they announced it, Christine. He was not there, and his lair was a mess. Maybe it was one of your dreams. Come, it is late, you need your sleep."

"It wasn't! I was there! He held me and sang to me! Madame, please don't dismiss it as a dream!"

"Hush, Christine!" snapped the Madame. "If you are going to become hysterical about it, I will go down to the Opera House again tomorrow. Now come, it's late."

"Thank you, Madame." Christine got up and started down the hall.

"Christine," She called out to her. "You're like my daughter, the least you can do is call me Émilie."

Christine smiled. "Thank you, Émilie."

* * *

Raoul was in a mansion. He navigated the halls and stepped into the study. He closed the solid mahogany door behind him. 

"Monsieur Firmin?"

The man looked up from the desk from across the room. A smile sprang onto his face as he stood to cross the room and greet Raoul.

"Monsieur De Chagny! What a pleasant surprise! I didn't expect you for another week! Come in, Come in! Sit! Would you like a drink? Scotch? Bourbon?"

He painted a smile on his face. "No, no! Thank you. I'm terribly sorry that I came earlier than expected, but something I did not foresee happened. While I was in the city, I decided to come see you. If my timing is too inconvenient, I will come back later."

"No! Your timing is perfect! The night's only begun! If I may be so bold to ask, how is Mademoiselle Christine, or might I say Madame?"

"She is quite in good health. She is actually in the city with her friends."

"How delightful to know! Well now, how may I help you?"

They sat down in two winged chairs facing one another beside a window.

"First, I would like to know the total cost of the damage at the Opera House."

"Quite a tragic accident-"

"It was no accident." snapped the Vitcomte.

"Well, quite tragic still. Unfortunately, we cannot find the original architect who built the Opera House. From what I found out, they received the blue prints anonymously. Quite Strange. Quite Strange indeed. Well, if we were able to find him, he would be in for a great deal of money. We want to restore it to its former glory, if it's possible."

_An anonymous architect? _

"**_A prodigy, Monsieur! Scholar, Architect, Musician..." _**Madame Giry's voice rang into his head. He mentally shook himself, and went back to the conversation at hand.

"I agree. It is quite odd. Well, Monsieur Firmin, stop hiding the numbers from me!"

"Yes, yes. Well I can tell you it is in the millions, Monsieur. The architect has exquisite taste and it doesn't come cheaply, you know."

"Yes, yes, I know. Well, my family will help as much as possible."

"That is wonderful news! Wonderful news! And will your new bride be coming back to perform with us?"

"No!" He snapped fiercely before he regained his composure. "No. She... is too upset from what happened."

"I understand. Such a shame, really. She could've had an amazing career."

"While we are on the subject, what of our friend?"

"You haven't heard?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No, what?" he was intrigued.

"The investigators, about 2 days after the incident, found the charred remains of a body."

"Was it him?" He raised an eyebrow. He couldn't believe his ears.

"They have identified it as him. We have no more worry of him now. Of course, his dark soul might still be lounging around, keeping to terms with his name." he joked.

Raoul laughed, but it was a hard, brittle laugh. He was giddy inside. This meant Christine had no one to go back to, nowhere to turn. Now, if only he knew where she had escaped to.

They heard the midnight church bells ring.

"I must be going. I have kept you up for too long!"

He engaged the Vitcomte while they were making their way to the door. "Nonsense! It was a delight! You and the Mademoiselle must really come and have dinner one of these evenings while you are in town!"

"I will let you know then. Thank you for a wonderful evening! I'll be in touch."

"Good evening Monsieur!"

"Good evening!" Raoul rang back over his shoulder. He couldn't help his smirk. This was more perfect than he could have imagined.

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**A/N: **Dum Dum Duuuuuuum! It can't be! Oh, but it is! Now I will hold chapter 6 hostage! The only way I will release it is if you hit that cute little blue botton that says review. 

I remain your obedient writer,

sexxyspidertheatrefreak


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A/N: No, I have not died! (Please don't kill me!) I know it's been more than 6 months! It's just that I have been really busy and my editor took a while with this chapter. Don't worry, now that Summer has arrived, I will be updating more frequently, like I used to. Once again, I'm sorry for the reeeeeeeally long wait. Don't worry I wasn't gaining revenge... I love you all fortaking the time out of your busy lives and reading my story.Once again, much thanks to my wonderful editor, if it wasn't for her, this story wouldn't be as great!

I will not make you wait anymore, Presenting Chapter 6!

* * *

Christine woke up feeling the warm sunlight gently caressing her face. Without opening her eyes, she rolled over onto her stomach. She smiled when she remembered where she was. She opened her eyes just to make sure she hadn't dreamed the entire episode. There she was, lying on the crème settee, covered with a green blanket, staring up at the white ceiling of a small apartment in Paris. She rubbed her eyes that were adjusting to the light and sat up. She ran her fingers through her thick mane of curls, working out the snarls.

She heard a door open down the hall and she saw that Madame Giry come out fully dressed and prepared for the day.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

"Good morning, Madame!" She rang out with a smile.

"Go get washed up and dressed. You can borrow a dress from Meg. It might be a tad short but I wouldn't worry much."

"What's the occasion?" Christine looked at Émilie confused.

"Well if you are going to stay with us, you need to see a seamstress for some proper clothing that fits and we need to run some errands. First though, I am going to keep my word and we are going to go down to the Opera House." She said matter-of-factly. She began to make tea.

"Oh Ma- Émilie! Thank you!" She said this running toward her and enveloping her into a hug. The woman hugged her back gently.

"Now go get ready before I leave without you."

Christine raced toward Meg's room with a large smile on her face. She opened the door gently, hoping not to wake up her sleeping friend. She spotted Meg on the bed, sleeping as soundly as a babe. She crept toward the trunk which held Meg's clothing and opened it carefully. She rummaged through the dresses, when she found the perfect one. It was a simple white dress that tied in the back around the waist; its sleeves went down to the elbows where it flared out, falling gently around the elbows. The ends of the sleeves were decorated with little red roses. _It couldn't be more perfect. _She gently closed the trunk and grabbed her corset and undergarments, which she had left in Meg's room last night.

She went into the washroom and splashed her face water from the basin. She smiled looking into the small mirror. She stopped and gave a small prayer for everything to go alright.

She took off the nightdress which she borrowed from Meg last night. She put on all her under things and then gingerly slipped on the corset. She abruptly realized that she was incapable of tying her own corset after a few fruitless attempts at fastening the many laces. Red faced from exertion, she stuck her head out of the bathroom door.

"Umm... Madame."

She saw Madame Giry walk to the entrance of the hall. "What is it, Christine?"

"I... Er..." She blushed into a crimson red. "My corset. I'm sorry, but I've always had help-"

"Oh, of course dear." She stepped into the bathroom and began tightening the laces. "I asked you to call me Émilie."

Her blush deepened. "I'm sorry. I did it out of custom."

"That's alright, dear," as she finished the knot, "now finish up. Your tea is getting cold."

"I'll be right out." Mme. Giry slipped out of the bathroom with a whisper of rustling skirts.

Christine admired her borrowed dress once more. It couldn't have been more suited to her. She slipped it on, it fit snugly onto her body without the sash. She tied it back anyways. It really fit perfectly, as the skirt was even the perfect length. It seemed as fate had brought it into her path. She looked at her reflection and made adjustments to her unruly curls. She tied back a potion o hair, but left most of it free to grace her neck. She meekly stepped out of the bathroom and timidly awaited Mme Giry's approval.

Émilie looked up from her cup and glanced at Christine. "It fits you nicely."

Christine did a small spin, making the skirt flare up a bit. "I'm surprised Meg had such a long hem on a dress of hers."

"Mm." Was the only response that came from the woman.

Once they had finished their tea they were ready to go. Christine began to walk toward the door when Émilie called her back.

"Christine please sit down one moment before we depart."

Christine, a little confused, obediently sat down on the couch. "What is it Ma- Émilie?"

"I just want to speak with you before we go."

Christine nodded, a little unsure of what was in store.

"Now, I know that you want to go down into the caverns of the Opera House again with the expectation of him being there, and I know that there is a possibility that he's there, however, there is the likelihood that he is not-"

"But he is!"

"Christine, I am just warning you, so you don't feel upset if he isn't there. There is also something else I must ask you." For a moment they looked into each other's eyes. Émilie Giry saw a confidence and radiance in Christine's eyes that she never seen before. She knew that look all too well from another.

"Yes?" Christine's voice broke her inner musings.

"Never mind now, come or we'll be tardy and won't be able to accomplish all we have set out for today." She got up and grabbed her valise and parasol. Christine watched her for a moment, wary, but still trusting Émilie. She rose up off the settee and smoothed her skirts.

Moments later they were strolling arm in arm on the bustling Paris boulevard. They were greeted with a gorgeous morning, despite the crowded street and towering buildings. Christine smiled thinking how that weather reflected how perfect marvelous she felt. The two women walked through the streets of Paris. Émilie had a blank face but her presence and mannerisms gave off an aurora of determination. Christine walked down the cobble strewn road with a smile of excitement on her face, though she felt a little pang of nervousness rumbling in her stomach.

Before Christine knew it, they were at the entrance of the Rue Scribe.

* * *

Once again, Erik had not slept the entire night. He just sat at his organ and banged out his confusion, his frustration, and his love that had blossomed within his heart the moment he saw Christine again. He closed his eyes, letting the music soar through his entire being. It was when a voice coming from behind him broke through his audible emotions that his concentration was shattered and he hit a sour chord. 

"I see you haven't even stirred from your organ once since you returned."

"Why are you here, Daroga?" He replied, not taking his eyes off his organ. He began to play a mournful tune in a pianissimo dynamic.

As Nadir Khan stepped out of the lake and onto the shore of Erik's home, he offhandedly dismissed the sharp, cold tone Erik had used to ask his question. "I have come to check up on you, as it has been a month since you came to my home brokenhearted. I was not sure if you had disappeared from Paris, France, or even Europe for that matter."

Erik purposely hit a diminished 7th chord at fortissimo. The cutting sound reverberated in the cave until its echo faded into silence. He slowly turned, his eyes aflame, his gaze piercing though Nadir. "And where am I supposed to relocate to, may I ask? Return to Persia? Ha!"

Nadir just smiled serenely. "It seems your playing ability has suffered."

Erik turned around to face the instrument again. "Well, I am fine as you can see. If the only other reason you're here is to criticize my playing and muddle up my home with your sodden robes, I will ask you to take your leave."

"Have you even risen once from the organ?"

"What do you think Daroga? Would I still be pounding out my frustrations on this organ if I haven't consumed a couple of measly portions of food and relieved myself?" He began to play again. "She has returned," his clear voice rang through the music.

"She came back? You couldn't possibly mean-"

"Of course it was Christine. What other 'she' might even spare me a thought?"

"Is she here? Now?"

"If she were here, do you really believe I would be squandering my precious time idly conversing with the likes of you?"

The song he was playing suddenly shifted into a mournful motif. Nadir watched Erik as he lightly swayed to the music pouring out from his soul through his fingers. Unseen by Nadir, Erik felt a tear slip down his cheek beneath his mask. Erik had found another within the rubble which made up his now, home.

"Did the Vitcomte accompany her?"

Erik laughed. The laugh was hollow and bitter. "Do you honestly think that the _boy _would let her even near Paris? But to squelch your pestering, no. She was alone."

"Ah, she came to see you then." He stated with a knowing smile.

Once again, Erik laughed. "You are really amusing, Daroga. She had a nightmare about me, if that's not a sign that she doesn't even want me in her dreams, then I don't know what is."

"But she came back." Nadir's grin grew steadily wider.

Erik stopped playing, and rose from the bench. He clenched his fist until his knuckles were white from rage. He furiously began to pace. "Yes, Daroga! She came back! And? Now she's gone! Once again, I let her go! Is that what you wanted to hear! Why she came back? I don't know! What she was dreaming? I don't know! All I know is that she called for me and I held her! I sang to her! She slept in my arms! And then I left her on the floor of her charred bedroom! I wasn't about to bring herback down here! For what? For her to run off with her precious little Vitcomte once again and finally kill me!" This time his laugh was filled with rage and sounded maniacal. "You are REALLY amusing me!"

Nadir watched Erik, his eyes shining with glee and what looked like triumph. Erik saw this when he looked at the Persian. His rage exhausted and now dissipated, he slumped into a chair, his eyes now distant and dull. "What should I do now?"

Nadir opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a woman's shrill scream, the splashing of footsteps in water, and the voice of another woman cry out,

"CHRISTINE!"

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A/N: Please, if you aren't too mad at me, I would really, really appreciate some reviews. 


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